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18 Shades of Grey

[post-eclipse] Bella and Edward's wedding has finally come, and yet, Bella's having difficulties facing the loss of life and age. More than anything, she wishes that Edward could somehow grow old with her, though she'd rather live with her love than lose him. However, on the night of their wedding - after one last human experience is taken - Bella's transformation goes horribly wrong. Frightened for her sanity, the Cullen family abduct the savage new vampire. How will Edward's already fraying heart cope with his bloodthirsty new wife? Will Jacob Black ever return for the girl he loved - or once loved? And one question remains: Can a vampire ever have a child? *CHAPTER TWO IS UP!* [R&R please] banner by me!

Disclaimer: Just a fan. Don't own any Twilight stuff :D R&R please

2. Night of Life, Life of Night

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1917   Review this Chapter

Somehow nothing else mattered more than being there; in his arms.

I had dreamt of this night in wild ecstasy for what had seemed like years. The thought alone had colored my cheeks with the blush I hated – and Edward adored. It seemed like every moment I'd walked this earth, every moment I'd breathed and dreamt had been leading up to this one. It had been the stuff of fictions, lying down with the one you loved to the end of the world and waking a changed woman. I didn't know how it would change me, yet I desperately, wildly, longed for it to. And somehow, I knew that Edward would take care of me. Somehow, I knew nothing could go wrong as long as he was there; as long as he was the one holding my hand.

Right now I could barely breathe. My heart was palpitating wildly, like in the moments before I'd married him - married him, I breathed silently to myself. Bella Cullen. That was me now. Edward was too brilliant for me to look at. He was like a mini-sun, dazzling and so alone, yet I would join him ... soon. I still felt inferior, my sticky fingers twined around his incapable of matching his glory. Soon, I told myself silently, soon. He turned back to look at me, and I closed my eyes silently, tilting my head up. His lips landed on mine gently, his arms wrapping around me in a soft embrace as if I was breakable, and he never wanted to let me go despite all my fragility.

I kept my eyes closed as he pushed the room door open. The room inside was dark, expectant. I didn't need to see anything. I only needed to feel. Edward knew that; he didn't bother with the light switch. His arms around me were strong as he carried me over to the soft duvet of the bed and lay me down ever so gently. Part of me wanted him to pounce, to turn into the hunter that I knew was within him and attack. I wanted it to happen, I willed it with all my heart. And yet the stronger part of me knew that this was the way I wanted it to be; soft, gentle, loving, just like how I felt whenever Edward looked at me. He bent over me and my heart went wild.

He chuckled softly, ever so softly. “You should see yourself, Bella.”

And I could – I was reflected in his eyes, brilliant copper-flecked eyes that blinked innocently down at me, swirling with a myriad of emotions. In them, I seemed small, like I was drowning, infinitely helpless to the world of him. My face was flushed, my lips parted slightly as if breathing was the only thing I could do right then – which it almost was. And his eyes entranced me. They were wide, wider than they'd ever been, and cautious, hesitant. I knew he was afraid of hurting me, but I could see the beast raring within him, determined to seize the prize.

I needed to say something. I felt foolish, merely laying there and staring.

“I ...” I began, fumbling over my words, saying the only thing that I could say right then and there, “Edward. Edward.”

And for some unexplicable reason, I felt like crying. I felt the tears forming and threatening to spill over, but I stubbornly held them back. I knew my lips were quivering; I could barely form words for their shaking. I needed him, needed him to take me up gently and never set me down once more. I didn't care where it was, when it was, how it was. It had become a physical pain to be seperated from him. I needed his touch, needed his smooth lips to brush mine, needed to feel the icy cold of his hand or the warm blaze of his eyes, be reassured by his low, steady voice. If only, I wept silently, if only I'd been born inside him.

“Bella?” his voice was frightened, I could tell. He was wondering whether he'd hurt me – and I wanted him to.

“I want this,” I wept, my voice breaking. I couldn't look at him, “I want this so much. I want you, here with me, every day, every night, every minute of our lives-”

My voice broke again, and I stopped. I heard a growl, and looked up, surprise clearing my vision for a moment.

Edward was leaning over me. His face was vicious, twisted by need. And yet as he met my eyes his expression was dimmed infinitely by love, and he leant closer still. I froze, unable to bear him so close without needing to pull myself into him. And yet, the moment had to come slowly. His icy hands found mine and lifted them slowly, to the silky material of his buttons. I knew what he wanted, what I wanted. My fingers fumbled on his shirt, his breathing an icy blast on my shoulder. I paused on each one, my fingertips running around their chiselled edges before I slipped them through the loop. Edward waited – I loved him for that.

The shirt slipped from around his immaculate torso, not adequate to clothe such a perfect body. His hands danced lightly to the buckle on his belt; it snaked out in one first and final flight to the floor. Everything about his actions at that moment was poetic; the ripple of his muscles as he tossed another item of clothing away, the flex of his neck and the glow of his hair as he moved, his eyes compelling, dangerous. I couldn't help it; I blushed bright scarlet. Edward naked was ... fascinating. Nothing kept him from me anymore. We were here now, both of us – raw and untamed – together.

His arms went around me, their icy strength ever so gentle, a strength that longed to crush him into me, just as much as I longed to hurtle myself into him again and again and again. I closed my eyes, feeling the rasp of his icy breath against my cheek and loving every moment, and lifted my arms. He pulled my nightdress up and over like I was a child. For a moment, he rested his cold lips on the nook between my shoulder and neck; I shivered, and struggled with myself. He was so gentle. I felt like a baby, and he was the childhood friend who I'd loved since eternity – would love until eternity faded away. I needed to move, needed to be with him.

And despite all my willpower, I crushed myself into him, arms wrapping around his cold, unclothed torso, pulling him into me. We were here, we were now. I twined my fingers roughly into his hair, ripping, tearing, forcing him closer and closer. There was no boundary now, no thin line that seperated him from me. I half-expected him to pull away, to force me back with clouded eyes. But, like our wedding, he showed no restraint, his lips bruising mine with eagerness, icy cold hands playing forceful patterns on my back so that I gasped out loud. His hands snaked their way down to my back with expert ease, ripping off what garments I had left – and I let him.

I wanted this.

Fear momentarily shot through me – what if I hurt him? What if he couldn't do it in the end? I needed him to be able to do it for me. Instead, I ignored the thoughts, and pressed myself further in. One of his hands went to the back of my head, the other wrapped firmly around my shoulders, his lips still fighting against mine. He leaned forward, and I tilted back obligingly.

He pinned me to the bed, frightening me with both of our eagerness. I still wanted it – I wanted it to be his night as well as mine, though. His arms were still wrapped around me, pulling me into him, and I did everything to respond. I could feel one leg snaking up and around, needing him closer, closer. The icy cold of his body was more than alluring, and I pushed myself against it, forcing myself up against him. Finally, he pulled away, though his arms remained wrapped around me in a protective cocoon, and the tip of his cold nose travelled down along my breast. He rested there for a moment, eyes closed.

He listened to my heartbeat, spiralling crazily out of control. And when it seemed like I couldn't stand the silence any longer, he looked up. It startled me, how grim his eyes were, when they had been ablaze with fierce, undying happiness just moments earlier. Yet I could feel his worry; feel his concern for tomorrow. For the morning, when we woke – when it had to happen. And most of all, I could feel his bitter contempt for him taking me away.

“This is your night of life, Bella,” Edward murmured into my chest, and I sighed; how I wished he could stay there, “Love it. Live it.”

“Edward ...” I whispered back, “I could never imagine ... doing this with ... anyone but you. I want my night of life to have you. You, and you alone.”

And then he slipped inside me. I inhaled sharply, not wanting a high-pitched scream to shatter the brillaint surrealism of the night. His lips met mine lightly, comforting me, soothing me as the pain edged away. Nothing mattered more; this was what I had lived for. His lips traced words on mine, in that secret language lovers sometime used. I could feel him inside of me, I could feel him with me. We were joined, as one, like we were to be. Like we always had to be. I pushed the thought of him disappearing, of the thought of him slipping through my fingers into an abyss I could barely glimpse away. He was here. I was here. That was all that mattered.

Edward smiling down at me, his kiss fierce and unyielding ...

a sofa in which we entangled, Edward attempting to tease ...

the first glance, Edward full of hostility, and yet the love already kindled ...

His voice, low and furious as I tried to die

His frightened yet determined face as he approached the Volturi, wanting to be with me at all times ...

Solace in his arms, while I slumbered, his quiet voice soothing ...

I woke that night to the tears that been blinding me. I cried silently. I feared the dawn. I feared leaving it all behind. I feared waking and looking out the window to see graves where there should have been my family, my friends. I feared the empty aisle where should have been a werewolf. I cried silently. And yet Edward knew; he never slept. His cold hand brushed mine, and I rolled to face him, afraid, my eyes ultimately afraid. He saw in them the fear – and I saw that fear in his own eyes. His hand brushed my cheek once more, brushing away a tear, and he examined it like a diamond had grown there, like it was a brilliant thing he could never even hope to imagine.

I kissed him, roughly, and after a moment he pulled me into him, his hug gentle, comforting. I was afraid – but he was here. I would never stop following him.

I wold never stop loving him.